


Down In The Jungle Room

by Rubynye



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Genderswap, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 02:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Polina and Leonard run afoul of sex pollen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down In The Jungle Room

Title: Down In The Jungle Room  
Fandom: Star Trek XI  
Rating: NC-17 with warnings.  
Pairing: Polina Chekova/Leonard McCoy   
Summary/Prompt: ["Girl!Chekov/McCoy, sex pollen" ](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/7030.html?thread=16071542#t16071542). Written for the Kink Meme but not posted in full there.  
Content Advisory: always-female!Chekov, unendurable temptation, sex pollen, dubious consent.   
Acknowledgements: The original requestor (not least for being patient) and [](http://lomedet.livejournal.com/profile)[**lomedet**](http://lomedet.livejournal.com/).  
_Disclaimer:_ None of these characters belong to me.  
Title from Marc Cohn's "Walking in Memphis", for no good reason.

Ensign Chekova's such a pretty little thing, all eagerness, always in motion, her eyes and smile framed by swinging brown curls. When McCoy catches his gaze skimming her delicate curves, breast and hip and calf, he reminds himself she's only a few years older than his faraway daughter. They've been serving together eight months now, and just two weeks ago the crew celebrated her eighteenth birthday with a shipwide party, enthroning her in the mess where she blushed like a rosebud, those big round eyes outshining the lightstick on her cake.

Leonard knows there's a brilliant mathematical mind under those curls -- she saved Jim and Sulu from splatting messily across the Vulcan landscape, she came up with the plan to hide behind Titan from the _Nerada_, and Jim says she's punctual and reliable and navigates superbly. But all Leonard can think of is that birthday party, how her wide green eyes shone innocently then as they gleam feverishly now, as she fists her delicate fingers in his uniform shirt and presses her chin into his chest. "Doctor," she says, her accent sharpening his title, her nearness sliding it scalpel-sharp under his skin, "Doctor, please, I want you, I want this, I want you fucking me."

"Chekova," Leonard gasps, "Polina, kiddo, the damn flowers're psychoactive, you're not in your right mind," because they've stumbled into an entire valley of little spangled weeds spewing glittery pollen, and the away team's collapsed into writhing, moaning knots of flesh. McCoy and Chekova are the last ones still standing, and he should pull his shipmates out of the flowers and each other, sober them up, get contact re-established with the _Enterprise_...

But Polina Chekova presses up against him, big eyes and loose curls, little breasts hot through their clothes, sleek little legs trembling against his; she's begging with that sweet mouth for him to fuck her, his head whirls drunkenly, and she's such a pretty little thing.

"Chekova," he pleads; she pulls harder, her mouth working silently, and when he leans closer to hear she kisses him, burning sweetly like good brandy. Leonard hears himself growl like distant thunder, feels soft plants crush beneath his knees, takes her slight weight on his chest as he sinks down to the ground. "Polina," he moans, her tender mouth on his jaw, her narrow little hands sliding up his chest. "Please, baby girl, you don't know what--"

"Yes I do," she snaps, right in his ear, nipping him with sharp little teeth as she catches his face in her hands. "I know what we do, Doctor. I am not child. I want this." He can only gasp, her thighs squeezing his waist as she kisses him hard with that soft mouth, his lips ablaze, his skin prickling unbearably under his uniform. She lets go, rocking against him as she reaches down for his hands and pulls them to her chest; the next kiss burns like liquor, all the way down, her curls tumbling over his face, and Leonard drowns in crushed greenery and flowery pollen and sweet fierce Polina.

"Oh, God Almighty, Polina." Her little breasts are high and pointed in his hands, nipples hard through her dress, and she claws at his trousers, her face pink, her lips brushing his as she twists and tugs. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I--"

She rocks forward, kissing him harder, cutting him off, then back again to wrench his pants open and wrap her little fingers around his mutinous cock. "Don't be," she tells him, her huge eyes blown and alight, sparks dancing in the dark of her vast pupils. "Don't be." Tearing cloth snarls under his hand and his fist closes around the shreds that were her panties, pressed hard to her hip.

And she smiles, with her sweet pink mouth, her eager cheer, planting her hand on his chest and pushing herself up. She backs onto him, guiding him into her tight unbelievable heat, and his eyes roll up, toes curling in his boots as his entire body shudders. All Leonard can feel is Polina pushing herself down onto him, until her high sob shoves his eyelids up and he watches her forehead furrow, her mouth flare open around a gasp. "Baby girl," he groans, ripping his hand from her breast as if it were glued there, trying to curve his hand soothingly around her shoulder. "Don't hurt yourself, honey, don't."

She shakes her head, honey-brown curls flying. "I am not baby!" she cries out, her voice wild and high as she slams their bodies flush, and oh, she's so hot, so tight, just beautiful around him. "Doctor McCoy, you know my name!" She braces herself on his chest, bucking against him, every bounce driving him deeper into her clutching young depths.

"Polina," he gasps, and her pupils are black and shining like space, thinly ringed with smoky green. She smiles, she laughs and she rides him, throwing her head back, arching sleekly, and he tries to brace her but all he can do is close his hands around her waist, watch her breasts and curls bounce, feel her driving against him, fucking him, fucking herself on him. "Polina, sweetheart, Polina..."

She screams, she tenses and she screams as she shudders in orgasm, fluttering around him, her muscles stroking him, sin and sweetness and wrenching, visceral pleasure. "Oh, fuck, honey," he gasps as she rocks forward, her eyes half-open, her grin wide and sweet and devastating, and she rolls her hips under his hands, dragging him along with her. He pulses into her and she crests to meet him, rippling around him, pulling him under into crushing pleasure.

_It's not natural_, Leonard thinks as he comes back up gasping, Polina hardly weighing down his chest where she lies splayed and quivering. Instead of the resolution of a normal orgasm, all he feels is the same unbearable arousal pounding in his blood, the same bone-deep desire to fuck Polina until they both pass out. He's still so goddamn hard, and he doesn't even know if he's hurt her. "Chekova," he murmurs, lifting a heavy hand to her cheek, and she mutters something indecipherably Russian. "Polina, honey, hang on, all right?" Leonard awkwardly rolls them onto their sides, taking hold of her waist to ease her away from him. Pulling from the heated depths of her, all he wants to do is push back in, and when she blinks sleepy eyes at him he hates himself all the more.

But as he shifts away and lays her down they crush more of the damn plants, and a fresh wave of intoxication hits his lungs and brain, searing down his spine. Her eyes open wide, lashes damp, smile brilliant, and when she reaches for him he can't pull away.

With the last of his control Leonard keeps himself from crushing her against his body again. He strips off her uniform dress and underdress, unhooks her bra, and kisses her, cheeks and chin, collarbones and sweet little breasts, as she winds her arms around his head and moans and sighs, "Yes, this, yes." The scent of her skin is richer than the flowers, her taste under his tongue fresh and sweet, and he kisses every inch of her he can, the fine skin over her ribs, the slight curve of her tender belly, her sex-slick inner thighs. He licks his own bitterness off the hot skin there as she rolls her hips towards him, fingers tangled in his hair, her voice a constant stream of pleading he can't make himself deny.

What he means to do is lick her until she's worn out with pleasure, until she's satisfied and more; he can already picture her exhausted in his arms, drowsing like a child after a full day at a fair. She's such a delicacy, smooth young flesh fever-hot under his mouth, the taste of her fresh and musky, sweet-salt intoxication. He presses her thighs further apart as gently as he can, wet curls tickling his nose as he drags his tongue over her clit so she quakes and shrieks and thrashes, pulling his hair so his scalp crackles. He slides his hands under her thighs, cups her little round bottom and holds her to his mouth, fucks her with his tongue as the roar of blood in his ears almost drowns out the cadence of her screams.

But those screams soak into his pollen-fevered brain, stream down his overloading nerves, and Polina comes down begging, "Fuck me, please fuck me." Leonard desperately ruts against the crumpled greenery beneath him, two fingertips pressed to her taint as he fastens his lips over her clit and sucks with everything in him. She sobs, high and loud, but she still begs, her voice winding around his dick like slender fingers, pulling him up. He kisses her navel, her ribs, the rise of one breast, and she clutches his cheeks and pulls his face to hers, licking her juices off his cheeks and lips, moaning into him.

He wants to kiss her sweet mouth over and over, but his dick throbs with his pounding heartbeat, and he's a doctor, he _knows_ his heart won't explode, but that does nothing to quell the sensation. "Sweetheart," Leonard gasps, dragging his lips up Polina's tender cheek, kissing her fluttering eyelid, her high forehead, burying his face in her tumbled curls as he slides into her again, waves of relief and ecstasy rushing through his body.

Polina sobs and bucks into him, fingers tight in his hair, thighs tight over his ribs, legs tight across his back, booted heels pounding his spine. "Please," she whimpers, "yes, oh," and flutters impossibly around him, her whole body shuddering between his and the green earth. Leonard clenches his fists, helplessly driving his hips harder; he can see himself with one cool shred of consciousness, his tall broad frame over this little girl, but he can't pull back, can't stop himself from thrusting into her flexing body so hard his balls bounce against her taut little ass and she arches and screams and bites the meat of his upper arm.

It's not even pain, it's just a sharper throb of feeling driving him over the edge; liquid gouts of pleasure surge through him and out, draining all the rigidity from his body, all the strength from his muscles until he dissolves and collapses, barely managing to land more beside than atop her. She gasps a small soft noise, tilting towards him, her knee caught beneath his hip, but for a long, long moment Leonard absolutely cannot move.

He hears her breathing, rough and fast, in time with her shaking. He gets his damn eyes open and sees the glowing red rim of her ear, her disheveled curls scattered with bits of torn greenery; her face is rosy-pink, lips parted, eyes shut tightly, tears streaming from beneath purpled lids. He sees Polina lying ravished, and horror spikes through the haze of satisfaction. He did this, to a girl so young, and all the pollen on this planet is no excuse.

But Polina saves him from his own recriminations, she looks up out of huge tear-reddened eyes, sniffles and smiles honestly and reaches for him. "That was," she murmurs, her voice hoarse, "that was so _much_," and Leonard has no reply. He gathers her up, hands behind her shoulder and thigh, pulls her to his chest and holds her. He should check her over, ensure he hasn't hurt her physically at the least, but all he can do is spread his hands over her damp skin and feel her tremble and breathe.

Then she asks, "Doctor, you are okay?"

Leonard startles like a spooked horse, pushing himself up on his elbow, Polina still curled into him. "Darling, I should ask you that," he mutters. She looks up at him sternly, drawing her brows down over those huge eyes, and he nods, looking away. "I'm fine, Polina."

She just breathes for reply, steady and calm, so he glances around. He can see Hendricks and Singh, motionless, legs intertwined; soft whimpers echo from over a low ridge, but he can't see anyone else, or Polina's uniform. He still has his, pants around his calves, shirts damp with exertion; he fastens his pants and peels out of the upper shirt, Polina loosening her arms to let him.

When he wraps it around her bare back she reaches up to touch his cheek, trailing her fingers along the line of his jaw. "Doctor McCoy," she asks, staring fixedly at him, "you are still my friend?"

Her voice wavers once, and the realization that she's making herself be brave is a sharp ache in his heart. "Leonard," he says, too gruffly, and apologetically presses his hand over hers on his face. "After... this, I think you can call me by name." She nods, slowly then faster, understanding him, bright girl.

"When not on duty," she says her eyes alight, smiling so irrepressibly he has to glance away as if that could hide his helpless answering smile. "Good. If you are still my friend then I am okay."

That reckless trust makes him look at her again; he can feel his brow furrow. "But Chekova, you need--" She tilts her head, pursing her pink lips, and she looks like a woman. A very young woman, but not a child. "I need to ensure you're not injured."

"Leonard." His name in her accent, rolling strange and new off her tongue. "I am not hurt, and this will not break us." She smiles again, tipped and impish. "You did not take my innocence, if you are worrying on that."

"Oh, great," he groans, shutting his eyes as she actually giggles at him. She's hardly old enough to have had one partner, let alone multiple.

She shifts against his chest, and he looks down to see her shrugging into his shirt. Strangely, she doesn't look like a child playing dress-up as she shoves the cuffs up her narrow arms and rests her head on his shoulder, especially when she imperiously tells him, "Lie back."

In honesty, it's his own cussedness that makes Leonard say, "I should leave you to rest."

"When you can _walk_," Polina says smugly. "When we go back to _Enterprise_ you will again be Doctor and I will be Ensign. For this moment, we can just be."

Leonard humphs doubtfully, but lies down, and Polina settles herself into the curve of his arm. "I'm not sure about this." But he tucks his nose into her hair, which smells sweetly of crushed green things and her warm skin.

"This is sense," Polina tells him implacably, and once more, Leonard gives in.


End file.
